


of death, springtime, and three-headed dogs

by slugmutt



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Eventual Smut, F/M, maybe other characters not sure yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-10-12 16:45:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10495209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugmutt/pseuds/slugmutt
Summary: Jyn has no interest in joining the Lord of the Dead in his pointless battle against the Titans.It turns out he's not planning to give her a choice.





	1. names

**Author's Note:**

> I have really good excuses for not updating my other stories right now (new job, big test, etc).
> 
> I have no good excuse for not updating my other stories, and yet taking the time to start posting the Hades/Persephone AU that nobody asked for (but that I'm honestly surprised I haven't seen more of, because Cassian would make an excellent Hades. It's not just me, right?).
> 
> Updates on all stories will hopefully resume late next week.

The Lord of the Dead was shorter than Jyn had expected.

He hadn’t introduced himself, but she knew who he was. He was clearly a god; no mortal could have withstood her. Not now, not when she had unleashed all of her power in a desperate attempt to escape.

And – there were so few immortals left, and she knew the others. Who else could it be but the Unseen One, the ruler whose realm even gods feared to visit?

Although to tell the truth, she had known him even before her conscious mind made the connections. It was something about his eyes. His face was handsome, but his eyes spoke of darkness, of suffering, of the abyss. He was no less intimidating for being of average size; one look at his face, and it was clear he was not one to take lightly. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the power rolling off him in waves.

Not that she would give him the pleasure of knowing he scared her.

“Is this how you treat a follow Olympian?” she asked, forcing a haughty tone. “Whatever happened to welcoming guests?”

He looked unimpressed. Well. It was hard to look imposing when dangling from the mouth of a three-headed dog.

“You are not our guest,” one of the dog’s heads told her. “You are our prisoner.”

“Yes, thank you, K,” the god of the dead said. His voice was like his face, she decided; beautiful, but with more than a hint of pain.

“I never was welcome on Olympus,” he added, addressing her.

“Is that was this is about?” she asked. “My apologies, Lord Hades. You have my welcome to visit Mount Olympus whenever you please. Provided you can wrest it back from the Titans, of course.”

A grimace rippled over his face and was gone in an instant. She waited for him to grow angry with her insolence, but all he said was, “I don’t go by Hades these days.”

“So what’s your name?”

“Names are such fluid things, don’t you think?” he answered. “Persephone. Cora. It is Janna now, is it not?”

Honestly, he had her kidnapped and dragged to the Underworld, and he couldn’t bother to learn her nickname?

“I go by Jyn,” she told him, letting her irritation seep into her voice. The words felt like a confession as soon as they left her lips, and she silently berated herself. Names were power.

His face was neutral as he looked her over, taking in her ripped jeans and dirty hair. She held her head high. It wasn't like his clothes were much better. Cleaner, yes, and better fitted, but the coarse work pants and jacket were hardly something Ares would wear, let alone any of the others.

He held her eyes for a long moment, then nodded as if he had made up his mind about something.

“Cassian,” he said. “That’s my name.”

“Cassian. Doesn’t that mean ‘empty’?” She raised an eyebrow, looked around the gloomy chamber. “Fitting, I suppose.”

“It suits me better than your name suits you, perhaps,” he said, voice sharper now. “A nice name for a goddess of nature, but when did you last use your powers? When did you last give mortals a bountiful harvest? When did you last give them anything?”

“Did you drag me down here to talk about my job performance?” she asked, fists clenched, and if she’d been irritated before, now she was furious. She felt the dog’s teeth dig tighter into her sweater in response to her anger.

“No,” he said, his face an expressionless mask again. “I brought you here to talk about your father.”

*

The goddess of the fields was not what he had expected.

He generally tried not to have expectations. Or, better yet, to expect the worst. He was so rarely disappointed.

Still, looking at the angry, disheveled figure trapped in K’s jaws, he realized that he had, despite himself, expected that a nature goddess would be… calmer.

She was quiet now, the mention of her father having apparently succeeded in shocking her into silence. He knew better than to expect it to last.

“Release her, K,” he ordered. “We don’t need to restrain her.”

“Because I’m trapped here just as well either way,” she said bitterly, finding her voice. K dropped her unceremoniously, but she landed on her feet, grimacing in disgust at the drool marks on her sleeves.

“We have no time for bickering,” he said, impatient. He ignored her glare. “Your father. When did you last see him?”

“I haven’t seen Zeus in ages,” she said. “Nobody has. If that’s what you brought me here for, sorry you wasted your time.”

“Your real father.”

She froze. Not for long, not for more than the merest fraction of a second. Cassian saw it anyway. He did, after all, meet all of mankind eventually. He often watched them stand and be judged; witnessed their last desperate attempts to justify their lives. He liked to think he was fairly good at reading faces.

He liked to think he was fairly good at spotting lies.

Still. He almost believed her when she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hephaestus,” K supplied. “Tall god, good with metal, probably creating a weapon that will destroy all life on earth?”

Cassian sighed as Jyn’s face contorted in horror. He hadn’t planned to tell her like that.

“He wouldn’t do that,” she told K, her voice shaking with anger. “I don’t know who told you that, but it’s wrong. My – He has honor. He’s done with weapons.”

“Jyn,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. She turned to him, green eyes wild, and he was struck by how young she looked, despite all her angry posturing and suspicious glares. He knew he must look far older. He certainly felt far older.

He sighed again. “I know your father wanted to be done with weapons,” he began. She started to speak, but he held up a hand for silence. “But that does not mean they are done with him.”

She was quiet for a minute, staring at something none of the rest of them could see. “Galen,” she whispered. He raised an eyebrow in question, waited. “His name,” she added. “After the bombs, he… It means ‘calm.’”

“That is an illogical name choice for a god of fire and destruction,” K interjected. “I do not understand.”

“What a surprise,” she shot back.

He spoke quickly, before they could start really fighting. An angry goddess and a three-headed hellhound could do some serious damage, and he had enough to do these days without rebuilding the mourning fields again.

“We have reason to believe that Hephaestus – Galen,” he corrected himself at a look from Jyn, “Has been taken by Kronos. That he is building a weapon that will secure the Titans’ rule over this world for time without end.”

She was shaking her head before he finished. “I haven’t seen him,” she said. “I wish I could help you – “ K snorted “ – I do!” she glared, “But I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Too busy saving your own skin,” K muttered, and Cassian would tell him to back off, except that he didn’t exactly disagree.

Jyn didn’t fly into a rage. For a long moment she didn’t answer at all, and he felt the subtle discord of unmet expectations again.

“Are we done here?” she finally asked, voice flat. He stared at her in disbelief. She raised her chin and stared right back.

It had been a long time since someone met his gaze so easily. There was something almost pleasing about being seen as an irritation for once, and not a horror.

Still. “We are not done,” he informed her. “We still need your help. Your father still needs your help.”

Her eyes flashed. “I fail to see the connection,” she said. “I can hardly help my father while trapped in the underworld with your little monsters, can I?”

K let out an indignant woof. “I am not a ‘little’ monster,” he complained. “I am Kerberos, hound of Hades, terror of the Netherworld. Men look upon me and tremble.”

Jyn smirked. “That’s not what Hercules told me,” she said.

Cassian didn’t think he’d ever seen K actually speechless before.

He fought back a moment of amusement at the sight of all three of K’s jaws opening and closing wordlessly, and turned back to Jyn. “I am your best chance of helping your father,” he told her. Implored her. “Together, we stand a chance of saving him.”

She gave him a hard look. “And if I say no?”

“Then the only way you are leaving here is through Tartarus,” he told her. She didn’t even flinch at that. Maybe she was more accustomed to horror than he had thought.

“It’s good to know where we stand,” was all she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower. Someone seems to have drooled on me.” She let her gaze flick over him. “You do have showers here, right?”

“Show her to her quarters, K,” he ordered. The giant dog lunged forward. “Wait!” K paused, his teeth almost at Jyn’s neck. “Walk with her, K, don’t carry her.”

K let out a frustrated whine, but did as he was told. Cassian did not watch Jyn as she walked away.

But he couldn’t help but notice that even hours after she had left, the room still smelled of springtime.


	2. the messenger

Jyn paced her quarters. The room he had given her was beautiful. The walls were not the dark, rough rock she’d been expecting, or the blinding white marble of Olympus, but a soft blue stone she’d never seen before. The bed and the sofa were a dark rose color, and she would have thought the colors would look awful, but somehow they didn’t. And from the brief glimpse she’d had of the small attached kitchen and the bathroom – and yes, there was a shower, and a lovely large bathtub – those were pretty, too.

It was cozy and clean and nicer than anywhere she’d stayed in a hundred years, and she hated it. She’d been ready to endure the indignities of a cold prison cell. Somehow, this pretense of hospitality was worse.

Not for the first time, she silently cursed whatever force in the universe had been in charge of distributing the gods’ powers.

There was a time when she had been proud of her power, of her ability to create life and beauty. But what good was a plentiful fruit harvest, against the might of the Titans?

How could she possibly escape Cassian and his hordes of monsters? He had furies, hellhounds, even a hydra if the rumors were true. What was she supposed to do, grow flowers at him? 

The one thing keeping her from going out of her mind with frustration was the thought of her father. That he might still be out there…

She hadn’t even thought to look for him. She had been so sure he was in Tartarus, if he was lucky. Inside Kronos if he wasn’t. The memory of K’s remark filled her with shame again. If they did find Galen, how would she explain why his own daughter hadn’t lifted a finger to find him?

_If_. If they found him, if he was really still on earth. If this wasn’t all some trick.

Cassian didn’t really have a reason to trick her, though. She knew he’d been trying to gather gods to fight the Titans with him – a hopeless plan if she’d ever heard one – but he wouldn’t have need of her powers for that.

For a wild moment, when she’d seen where K was taking her, she’d thought maybe she was being kidnapped as a bride. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried it. But one minute in his presence had made it clear that wasn’t on his agenda. Honestly, he seemed more interested in criticizing her than anything else. She frowned, remembering. They’d only just met, but she could already tell Cassian was more serious about the gods’ work than anyone but Ares. Maybe even more than Ares.

No, the reason he’d given her – as unlikely as it might seem – must be his real reason.

And if that was the case, well, it hardly mattered that she couldn’t escape. If Cassian was going to help her get her father back, she would happily endure the Underworld for as long as it took.

 

Of course, she hadn’t realized just how long it was going to take. Not that she’d expected to just charge off that afternoon, but – she’d thought he had a plan.

“My plan was that you would know where he is,” he’d told her once, curt. She’d rolled her eyes; he’d pretended not to notice.

After a month, she knew Asphodel and the mourning fields like the back of her hand. He’d been suspicious, at first, in her interest in leaving the palace. (“But why?” “I just want to see it, that’s all.” “Nobody ‘just wants to see’ the Underworld,” he’d muttered, but he let her go).

He’d watched her closely when she returned the first time, and had seemed shocked when she wanted to go again the next morning.

At night, they ate in his quarters. “I don’t have a proper hall,” he’d said, defensive. “There’s no reason for it down here.” She’d just nodded. The absence of a banquet hall was no loss. It had been awkward enough at first with just the two of them in his small kitchen; she could only imagine how strange it would have felt to be the only two seated at a table meant for fifty.

She wasn’t sure what kind of food she’d been expecting – unidentified meats? mushrooms? – but the meals were perfectly normal. He’d told her the food was brought in weekly, but he wouldn’t tell her how. Probably concerned – rightly – that she’d use the knowledge to formulate an escape plan.

The only unusual food she’d seen were the strange fruits of the tree in his throne room. “Never eat from those,” he’d warned, nodding at the purple pomegranates weighing the branches down. “Eat of the fruit of the Underworld, and you’ll be stuck here forever.” She’d tried to suppress a shudder.

Cassian was busy most mornings. It was far more complicated to run the Underworld than she had ever thought. She had assumed it must mostly run itself, but it was a whole world to manage, with more inhabitants than the world above.

“How is this still here?” she’d asked one night, and he’d looked over, startled. “Everything else is a battleground. Why are the Titans not attacking here, too?”

“We’re not so easy to find,” he’d answered, a note of grim satisfaction in his voice. “The entrances move, only the dead can sense them. And me, of course.”

In the afternoons, they prepared for war.

“I know how to throw a lightning bolt,” she’d complained. “I am Zeus’ daughter.” He’d given her an unimpressed look. “Okay, fine, I’m not. But I still know how to throw a lightning bolt.”

He’d watched her throw three bolts in rapid succession, hitting dead center on two targets, and missing the center of the third by a hairsbreadth. “Not bad,” he’d said. “But keep your weight centered more, you’re opening your side to attack.” She’d made a face at his back as he turned away.

Most of the preparations were more complex, and Jyn wasn’t invited to take part, a fact which annoyed her to no end.

“Why can I not hear what you and Ares are discussing?” she had fumed. “This is ridiculous. Am I a part of this fight, or not?”

“Ares still doesn’t trust you,” he’d said, in that irritating perfectly calm tone he had.

“It’s your house. You can decide who gets to sit in on the meeting,” she’d argued.

The look he had given her in response was almost amused. “I don’t trust you not to start a fight with him,” he’d said, and she hadn’t talked to him for a full day after that.

But she could never give him the silent treatment for long. There were countless millions of spirits to meet – more than she could ever hope to speak to, among them the most brilliant minds to have walked the earth – but there was something missing when you talked to spirits. They could be clever, they could tell fascinating stories, but they were just…

They were too calm, she decided one night at dinner. They lived, in a way, but nothing bothered them anymore. They didn't care enough to be bothered. Say what you would about Cassian – and she’d said many things about him, some in the privacy of her room as she kicked the furniture, and even more directly to his face – but he cared. In his own quiet way, he cared about the dead more than the rest of the gods put together had ever cared about the living.

Plus, it’s not like he had been wrong about her and Ares. She never had liked the war god – they’d found themselves working at cross-purposes too many times, and anyway, he was just so unfriendly. And it didn’t help that when he’d first seen her here, in the Underworld, he’d just frowned and asked Cassian, “Can she be trusted without Kerberos here?”

Cassian, sensing her mood, had quickly ushered her out of the room, but not before she heard Ares suggest that he “put her back where you found her.” If she had to speak to him again, she really might punch him. It would be worth losing the fight just to see the look on his face.

If it weren’t for the part where she was a prisoner, it wouldn’t have been a bad way to live, all things considered. She missed the sun on her face and the green of the trees, but she sure as hell didn’t miss the hunger, the fear, or staying constantly in motion, always trying to figure out where the next battle would be so she could avoid it.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t miss being alone.

Still. She never had been much good at waiting patiently, even when there was much less on the line than the chance to save her father from eternal torment. So when Kerberos found her in the fields one morning and said, “Lord Cassian and the Lady Athena desire your presence, although I cannot imagine why,” she didn’t even bother answering, just raced toward the castle.

*

Jyn stumbled through the door breathing heavily, cheeks pink, hair wind-swept as ever. He didn’t know how she managed it. They didn’t even have wind in the Underworld.

“Lady Athena,” she gasped out, and dropped to one knee. Cassian raised an eyebrow.

“For her, you kneel,” he said, but he couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. Jyn didn’t bother to try looking apologetic.

“There’s no need for that,” Athena chided, guiding Jyn to her feet. If the red-haired goddess was surprised at Jyn’s appearance, she kept it to herself. Cassian knew Jyn’s attire would hardly be considered acceptable on Olympus, but as this wasn’t Olympus, he saw no need to force the issue. He had never bothered with formalities in this place, either. Athena still kept the old ways, though, her white Grecian robes in sharp contrast to the dark stone of the war room.

“We have a job for you,” he told Jyn. Athena sent him a sharp glance.

“We would like to request your assistance with a mission,” she corrected. “Cassian tells me that until recently you were close with Dionysus?”

Jyn’s face clouded over, her usual response to hearing the wine god’s name. “Yes,” was all she said.

(“Why Dionysus?” he had asked her. “He’s an agent of chaos. If you were going to fight, why not fight with us?” She’d been silent for so long he thought she wouldn’t answer, finally saying just, “Because he was there.”)

“We believe he may have intercepted a message from Hephaestus,” Athena said. “If the rumors are true, this could be our chance to figure out where Kronos is holding him.”

Jyn nodded, resolute. “When do we leave?”

 

 “It’s not really a message,” he explained to her, as they made their way through one of the winding passages that led to the world above. He raced along the ground, the earth contracting under his feet so that he moved miles in every minute. One of the perks of being god of the dark places below the earth.

Jyn rode Kerberos, an arrangement that both of the two had complained bitterly about.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a messenger,” he explained. “At least that’s what Ares heard.”

She frowned. “Hermes hasn’t been seen in years.”

“Not Hermes, then,” he shrugged.

“But then who…” she started. Stopped. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“If Dionysus hasn’t driven him to madness before we get there,” he said grimly. He half expected Jyn to speak up in defense of her one-time companion, but she was silent.

 

It took them an hour to find the location, despite having exact coordinates. Dionysus must be better at laying low than Cassian had thought; the small house deep in the Siberian forest was truly hard to spot.

“Now what?” Jyn whispered from his left.

“Now we wait,” he said. “Watch the house, see who goes in and out. If by tomorrow we haven’t seen Dionysus, then we – “

“Tomorrow?” she asked, sounding appalled. “No.”

And before he could stop her, she was off and racing toward the house. “Jyn!” he hissed, running to catch up, but it was too late.

A dozen satyrs surrounded her, bows drawn. The oldest looked at least 60, the youngest barely more than a child.

“Back away,” one warned.

“I am Janna, daughter of Demeter. I am here to see Dionysus,” Jyn said. Commanded. Her voice was different, somehow, the air around her filled with power. He was reminded of the moment they first met, of the power that had surrounded her then, primal and alive.

She marched forward into the house without waiting for an answer, leaving the satyrs dumbstruck in her wake. Cassian hesitated for a fraction of a second, then followed, casually incinerating the resulting arrows with a wave of his hand. He had planned to approach the notoriously unpredictable Dionysus with caution, but – since that boat had clearly sailed, he may as well stay close to Jyn.  

 

The messenger turned out to be a mortal. A half-blood son of Hermes, but still. How a mortal had managed to escape Kronos, let alone survive Dionysus’ special brand of induced madness…

K had the man firmly in one of his mouths. “I’m the messenger,” the man told Cassian, eyes unfocused.

If that was all they were able to get out of him, Cassian was going to throw Dionysus into Tartarus himself.

Jyn was talking animatedly to another man, who was apparently an old friend. “Over here,” she called, waving him over.

“This is Baze,” she told him, gesturing to the man. “He’s on our side.”

“And I’m Chirrut,” came a voice from… the back of Baze’s head? Cassian frowned. “No need to introduce yourself, it’s clear enough who you are,” the voice continued happily. “And Jyn, dear. So lovely to see you doing well.”

Baze gave a long-suffering sigh and turned around, and suddenly they were face-to-face with a middle-aged man with sightless eyes.

“You know I can’t see them either way,” the man chided. His companion grunted, “This is for their sake, not yours,” and – he was going to need a moment to get used to this.

“Janus?” he guessed.

The first voice – Baze – grumbled, and the man facing them said gently, “We prefer our individual names.”

“I prefer not to be lumped in with this fool,” Baze muttered, but there was no heat in it.

“They’ve been held by Dionysus for weeks,” Jyn told him. “Apparently he thought they were spies. They need to rest. K can take them back with Bodhi, right?”

He stared at her. It was strange enough having her in the Underworld – the first living being in millennia to spend more than a day there, other than him and K. Now she expected him to host a god he’d just met, and a _mortal_? (Not that he wished the half-blood ill, but – he had been planning to question him, that was all.)

Jyn looked back, looked at him as if _of course_ he would help them all, and, “Good idea,” he found himself saying. “K, take them now, we’ll follow.”

K had barely left when one of the satyrs raced in. “They’re coming,” he wheezed, and Jyn looked anxious. Dionysus, he thought. Good. Jyn might not want to see him, but he did. He had been hoping the wine god would find them before they left; hoping he could give the fool a piece of his mind.

But when he looked out the window, it wasn’t Dionysus he saw. Cassian had just enough time to reach Jyn and envelop her in his spell before the Titans crashed through the front door.

*

Jyn had barely realized what was happening before she found herself being shoved into the wall, Cassian’s hand on her chest pushing her back. His other arm was around her, hand behind her head to cushion the blow. They stood there, barely breathing, as the Titans entered the room.

She recognized Iapetus, but not the other one. The second titan’s eyes went straight to the corner where they stood, and her heart nearly stopped, but his eyes just drifted over them as if they weren’t there. _We're invisible_ , she realized. She had heard that Cassian had that power, but hadn’t realized he could extend it to others.

Cassian stood so still he could have been a statue. His fingers were frozen in place, splayed across her collarbone.

It was the first time he had touched her. She knew it was the first time he had touched her because if he had ever touched her before, and it had felt anything like that, she would have remembered it. There were _titans_ in the room, and they could be caught and thrown into Tartarus at any second, and she still couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his fingers on her skin, the slight buzz, as if energy was flowing from him into her wherever their skin made contact.

His face was just a breath away from hers, and she saw a silent apology in his eyes.

“Nothing,” one of the titans said. His voice rumbled as if echoing through a cave. “They ran away again. Cowardly gods.”

Iapetus paused, and sniffed the air. “Keep looking,” he ordered. “I smell the blood of Olympus here.”

Cassian closed his eyes, and Jyn thought he must be channeling more energy into the spell, because the room around them seemed to go blurry. He wasn’t the only one with power, though.

“It’s not the blood of Olympus, you fool,” the titan’s voice came a moment later. “It’s just some dumb flowers, see?”

“Jasmine.” Iapetus said in disgust. “Trust Dionysus to pull something like that. They’re probably long gone.” A massive fist suddenly slammed into the wall ten feet from where she and Cassian stood, shattering most of the woodwork.

“Don’t worry about it,” his companion said. “In a month, none of this matters anyway, right?”

Iapetus frowned. “I don’t like all these machines,” he complained as the two turned and started walking out. “Makes us look weak. Like we couldn’t take them in a fight.”

His companion said something in return, but Jyn could barely make it out. She slumped forward, dizzy with relief, only to realize she had basically just thrown herself on Cassian. She went to take a step back, but he held her in place.

“It could be a trick,” he whispered. “We should stay hidden for another few minutes, just in case.”

Jyn waited, silent, her body pressed against his. The energy was back, sparking where his hands circled her arms, where her chest pressed against his, where his cheek brushed gently against her head. _He’s a son of Rhea_ , she told herself. _He has strong magic. That’s all it is._

After ninety seconds she jumped back. “They’re clearly gone,” she said. “We should go.” He gave her a disapproving glance.

“You are too impatient,” he said, voice still low as if someone might be listening. “It could get you in serious trouble.”

“Yeah, well, we’re all in trouble these days,” she said.

They made their way out silently, easily finding their backup transportation, a two-horse chariot hidden in a nearby cave with a passage that should take them all the way back to the Underworld.

“Nice trick with the flowers,” he told her once they were on their way.

“Flowers being used to fight a Titan. I bet you never thought you’d see that,” she replied.

He gave her a serious look. “Don’t underestimate your powers,” he told her. “You could do much in the battle for earth.”

When they arrived in the Underworld, she immediately excused herself to go sleep. He nodded. “Stay in the castle tomorrow morning,” he told her. “We’ll be having a meeting.”

All in all, she thought, not a bad day. They had the messenger, they had found Baze and Chirrut, and they hadn’t been ripped to shreds and thrown to the bowels of hell. Everything had gone well. Except for stupid, noble gods of death with their monsters and their pointless battles and pretty faces and warm hands.


	3. dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nordbo made amazing art for this. Posting [here](http://runakvaed.tumblr.com/post/159388865683/of-death-springtime-and-three-headed-dogs-by) for whoever missed it in the comments.
> 
> Also, this fic is turning out way longer than I planned, sorry for the delay in updates.

_His hand trailed up her side slowly, teasing, while his tongue made its way across her chest. “Please,” she moaned, but she knew it was no good. He meant to drag this out as long as he could, to turn it into exquisite torture._

_His tongue found her nipple and she moaned, arching into him. He laughed, low and dark, and moved on, pressing kisses against her throat, hard enough to keep her pulse racing, but not enough to satisfy. “Please,” she begged. His fingers moved up the inside of her thigh, brushing her folds and then darting away, and was he actually trying to kill her?_

_She was on fire, but he kept just out of reach, driving her higher. “Cassian,” she moaned._

And awoke.

One look out the window and Jyn could see it was far too early to be awake. The Underworld had sun, but Cassian’s enchantments gave it some semblance of a cycle of night and day.

And right now was the “way too damn early” phase, but – she was never going to get back to sleep now. Her body was wound tight, frustrated, and she could already feel the beginning of a dull headache. Again.

She sighed as she made her way to the shower. She hadn’t been physically involved with anyone in ages, hadn’t wanted the complication. Cassian was with her every day. And he was attractive, there was no denying that. So now her stupid body had latched on to the idea of him. It was only natural.

Still, sex dreams every other night was a bit much. This was the fourth time in the week since they’d rescued Bodhi.

The first time she had told herself – firmly and repeatedly - that she wasn’t sure who the mystery figure in her dream had been. So of course, her brain helpfully provided details the next time. Even she couldn’t deny she knew the voice that had been moaning her name.

She just thanked her stars that the dreams had started after the others arrived. Being alone with him on the mornings after dream-him had been driving her wild with need would have been… difficult.

She made her way quietly down the stairs. She didn’t want to wake anyone else up – Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze needed their rest, and she did not want to see Cassian right now – but she needed coffee. She’d grown used to it during her time in the mortal world. And after weeks of complaints, a coffee maker had somehow arrived with their last food shipment.

She stumbled into the kitchen, and stopped short at the sight of the very god she’d been trying not to think about. He was leaning over the coffee machine, stabbing vaguely at its buttons and looking irritated, and Jyn smiled despite herself.

“Need help?” she asked, and his head whipped around. He looked embarrassed. “These things can be hard to figure out,” she offered.

“I am a god,” he muttered. “I can make any drink I want appear at will.”

“But this coffee is better,” she said.

“It is!” he exclaimed. “How do they do it?” She laughed, moving around him to press the right buttons. When she turned back, he was leaning on the counter and giving her a tired smile.

“So your coffee isn’t perfect,” she teased. “Good to know that even the lord of the Underworld has his limits.”

He sighed. “I have many limits,” he said, and he seemed to be speaking mostly to himself. She could have kicked herself. Of course that had reminded him of the war.

“But,” he continued. “There is one thing I have managed to do.” He looked at her, and there was something in his eyes that looked almost like triumph. “I have managed to get our messenger to speak.”

 

Bodhi had more than just a verbal message for them.

“It’s a video,” he explained. “I thought it would be better. I might… You should hear it from him.”

Jyn shot a quick look at Cassian, wondering if he had any idea what Bodhi was talking about. Most of the gods wouldn’t, she knew. Zeus, for one, had always acted as if technology stopped developing sometime around the end of the Peloponnesian war.  

But he seemed to understand.

“So where is this video?” he asked, looking around.

“I, um,” Bodhi said, nervous. “I kind of dropped my phone, when the satyrs grabbed me.” Cassian let out a low growl of frustration.

“It’s OK!” Bodhi hastily added. “I uploaded it to the cloud, first. Just in case.”

Now Cassian looked baffled, but Jyn could hardly judge, since she was sure her face must be as blank as his.

The young demigod paused, his glance flitting between them. “The cloud? Like, for – you know what? Never mind. I just need a different phone, that’s all. Or a laptop. Anything that can get me online, really.” He paused, looking chagrined. “You probably don’t have wifi down here, do you?”

She was already thinking of ways to sneak above ground and steal a phone, when Cassian said, “There’s a computer in the war room.”

“ _You_ have a _computer_?” she hissed to him as they made their way to the war room, Bodhi and K just a few steps behind.

He shrugged. “Of course. It’s very useful.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “So then what was that with the coffee maker?”

“Coffee machines aren’t useful.”

Jyn begged to differ. But something else was bothering her more, “How, though?” At his questioning look, she added, “It’s just – the gods aren’t usually big on novelty.”

The look he shot her was equal parts amusement and exasperation. “You talk about the gods as if you are not one yourself, have you noticed?” he asked.

Before she could answer, they reached the door. She scowled, making a mental note to question him again later. He gestured to Bodhi and K to enter.

And the thought of what awaited her inside suddenly hit her with full force. She’d been so careful to think of it as just another bit of intel for their battle, but this was her father. Her secret father, the father she hadn’t seen in over a decade, but her father nonetheless.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he had to say to them. Whatever it was, she was fairly confident it was nothing good.

“Jyn?” Cassian’s voice shook her from her reverie. “Are you coming?”

She pulled herself together, and walked into the room.

*

In the five weeks since he had met Jyn, Cassian had seen her angry many, many times. For the first two weeks, she’d made a point of picking a fight with him at least once a day, as if she thought that if she could just irritate him enough he’d let her go.

As if he would risk the battle for earth just because a pretty girl was mad at him.

(The truth was, a not-so-small part of him liked their arguments. Liked the way anger played across her face so openly, lighting her from within. Liked that on the rare occasions she managed to provoke him to anger, the look on her face was victorious, not terrified.

Not that he’d seen fit to mention that.)

In recent weeks, she had stopped picking fights with him; a fact that left him wondering, far more often than he should, what was going through her mind. Instead, he got to serve as audience to her tirades against Ares (“that pompous, self-righteous jackass”), or Kerberus (“it’s the _way_ he says ‘oh, it’s you.’ You’d have to be there”), or whatever else was bothering her that day.

It was irritating. A distraction. He told himself so every day, with little effect. He should have been irritated; instead, he found himself hiding a grin whenever she started a rant. He should have been reminded of how unsuited she was to a life of war and sacrifice, and how foolish it would be to grow attached. Instead, he found himself waking from dreams in which he had silenced her with a kiss, had turned her angry words to moans of pleasure.

So. He was used to angry.

Her response to the video, though… that was new, and frightening. He would have given almost anything to see her furious on the way to Kronos’ lair. Instead she sat silently on K’s back, her face perfectly blank, as it had been since she had seen Galen’s message.

His second message, that is. They had all seen the warning about his weapon, the one the Titans were calling Astro Thanatou. They had all heard his secret, his hope that it could be destroyed.

Only Jyn had heard the last part of his message, the part he had meant for her, and her alone. And she had barely spoken since.

What on earth had the fire god said to her?

 

The trip dragged on for an eternity, and yet, standing on a cliff facing Kronos’ mountain workshop, he felt as if it had taken just moments.

Baze and Chirrut had ridden with Jyn, while Bodhi rode a strange device of his own. “A hoverboard,” he’d told them, a glint of pride in his eyes. “There are benefits to being a demigod.”

It fell to him to give the command. “K, I need you here on the perimeter,” he said. “If you see others coming, warn us. If you see Galen, take him and run. Don’t wait for us.”

“Baze, Chirrut, Jyn,” he continued. “Inner perimeter. If you see Kronos, the goal is to distract, not engage. If you see Galen, take him and run.

“Bodhi, you’re with me,” he concluded, and the demigod gave a firm nod, his face pale. “OK. Three minutes to go,” he concluded. “Check your weapons, do whatever else you need to do.”

Chirrut began what sounded like a prayer, while Baze checked the sights on a vicious-looking rifle. He turned back to the cliff. Sometimes just one more minute of surveillance could make a real difference.

A hand on his arm held him back. “Cassian,” Jyn said, her voice quiet but firm. “Not Bodhi.”

He turned toward her, and took the opportunity to search her face, to see if that horrible blankness from earlier had gone. Her eyes were tight, but she looked more like herself.

“What about Bodhi?” he asked.

“He’s _mortal_ ,” she hissed. “He shouldn’t have come in the first place. Now you’re dragging him into the heart of the battle.”

He felt his own temper rising. “He wants to fight,” he replied. “It’s his world, too.”

“He could _die_.”

“Did you forget that I am the god of death? Or did you really think that if he dies, I won’t let him out?” he asked, frustrated.

Jyn stared at him in shock. “You – you would do that?” she asked.

It hurt, hearing that. He’d thought she saw him differently than the others did. Not that he was fool enough to think that she saw him as she did in his dream-mind’s fantasies – but he had thought that, at least, she didn’t see him as completely heartless.

“Let’s go,” was all he said.

“Cassian.” Her hand was on his arm again, and he almost broke her grip and kept walking, but, “What?” he found himself saying instead.

“I just meant,” she said, eyes on his, “that you’re careful to preserve the natural order. That’s all.”

He nodded, feeling suddenly foolish. It was a new feeling, and he didn’t like it. Everyone else had been preparing for the mission, and he had been getting upset over something Jyn had said, his feelings so obvious that she had noticed. That she had taken time to soothe his hurt feelings – and since when did he even have hurt feelings? – when she should have been double-checking her weapons.

The world was at stake. That was what mattered here. Not what a certain green-eyed goddess thought of him. They would all be better off if he got that through his head.

He squared his shoulders, and prepared to do what needed to be done.

*

Jyn couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

Of course, she was standing in a Titan’s secret workshop, potentially just seconds away from being sent to an eternity of torment. Some feelings of unease were probably par for the course.

But it wasn’t just that.

Why had Cassian chosen Bodhi for the riskiest part of the mission? He was mortal. Yes, Cassian had promised to release him from death if necessary (and the emotions _that_ promise had stirred up would be something Jyn could think about later, or preferably never) – but why take the risk at all?

And, not to be petty, but – she had better aim than Bodhi, anyway. And she was Galen’s daughter.

She frowned. Maybe she was thinking about this wrong. Maybe the issue wasn’t that Cassian saw a difference in skill between her and Bodhi. Maybe – and the thought left her feeling like her stomach had been replaced by a block of ice – maybe it wasn’t a question of what she could do, but a question of what she wouldn’t do.

How far would Cassian go to ensure that Galen’s invention would not be completed?

And why had she not thought to ask herself that before? (She knew why. Because somewhere in the past few weeks she had stopped thinking of him as a kidnapper, and started thinking of him as a friend. How had she been so naïve?)

She looked at Baze and Chirrut. With two heads, they could easily guard the outer chamber without her. She was needed elsewhere.

She slipped out the door before Baze could so much as whisper her name, heading deeper inside.

*

Bodhi and Cassian stood in a square chamber made of solid gold. The walls, the floor, everything was gold, and Cassian wondered whether Kronos was too stupid to remember that one of his enemies could force metal to obey his will, or if he was just too arrogant to care.

Either way, it made his job easier.

“That’s, um.” Bodhi murmured, as Cassian focused on his task. “That’s a very deep hole.”

He didn’t answer. Yes, it was deep. Once he was finished, it would go all the way to Tartarus.

Bodhi shifted anxiously from foot to foot. Cassian could feel his emotions swirling. “We’re going to rescue Galen, right?” the mortal finally managed.

He didn’t answer.

*

Three things happened at the same time:

First, Cassian finished his work. A portal now led directly from Kronos’ workshop to the heart of Tartarus.

Second, Kronos himself emerged from a hidden door, dragging a clearly shaken Galen behind him.

And third, Jyn entered the room.


	4. the fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update is pretty short, posting just to get past the evil cliffhanger

It would have been the easiest thing, as Kronos dragged Galen into the room, for Cassian to quickly shove the god of fire into the pit. One push, and he could guarantee that Galen would never have a chance to complete his superweapon.

Or, if it was too late for that, he could at least avenge the earth for the disaster to come. He always had been the one who made sure evil was punished, in the Underworld if not on earth.

He didn’t do it.

One look at Galen, and he realized it was not an option. The question of why it wasn’t an option was one he would have to examine later (although he felt fairly sure already that six weeks earlier, it wouldn’t have been an issue). For now, he needed a plan of attack.

“Distract Kronos,” he muttered to Bodhi. “I’m going to try to push him in.”

“Distract…?” But Cassian was already moving.

He ran around the perimeter of the room, a vague plan to sneak up and chain Kronos with his own golden tapestries already forming in his mind.

“Little mortal,” he heard the Titan’s voice rumble behind him. “I thought I killed you.”

“Guess you thought wrong,” he heard Bodhi say, his voice stronger than Cassian would have expected. He risked a glance and saw Bodhi leading Kronos on a chase around the pit, keeping his hoverboard just out of reach.

And he saw… “Jyn,” he breathed, and then, “… shit.” (Why had he thought that ordering her to stay in the outer rooms would be at all effective?)

He wasn’t the only one who noticed her. “The goddess of flowers,” Kronos said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I didn’t bother to kill you.”

“Your mistake,” she snarled, and before any of them could react, the Titan’s legs were roped together by a thick cord of vines.

The battle was on. Kronos broke the vines within seconds, but Cassian was already there, sending balls of flame at his legs while Bodhi flew around his head, shooting arrows. From the corner of his eye he saw Jyn reach for Galen, saw him whisper in her ear.

One of the titan’s fists caught Bodhi in midair and sent him flying across the room. He hit the wall hard, but managed to rise to his feet. Cassian threw himself at Kronos’ back, willing him to turn away from the mortal. He fought with everything he had, throwing fire and poison arrows, sending chunks of the wall flying to hit the titan in the head every time he turned his back.

It wasn’t enough. Kronos was too strong.

And then Jyn was at his side, and he’d always thought she’d be a valuable member of their alliance, if she joined, but – he hadn’t known the half of it. She fought like all of the furies in a single, small body, and she may not have had Zeus’ raw power, but he would have bet on her in a fight regardless.

His head on fire, vines pulling at his limbs, Kronos began to stumble. They were so close. They just needed another few minutes.

Instead, they got K running in with Baze and Chirrut, and Cassian’s heart sank even before K managed to say, “They’re coming. We have one minute.”

“How many?” he asked, more than a hint of desperation in his voice. They were so close, why could something not go right for a change?

“Too many,” Baze said, grim.

Kronos’ laugh filled the room, sending a wave of hate through him. “Goodbye, little gods. Run off and enjoy earth while it lasts,” he told them.

He forced himself to focus. He had wanted to defeat Kronos – had wanted it very, very badly – but that wasn’t why they had come, anyway. They had come for Galen.

Galen, who was now standing with his back to the pit, Kronos between him and the door.

The titan looked back and forth between the two of them, and sneered. “Try it, please,” he said.

“You have to go, Jyn,” Galen said, gently.

“Not without you,” she said, and there was a world of emotion in those three words.

The seconds sped by. Cassian weighed his odds of making it to Galen. Attack was futile, he knew, but – he wasn’t leaving without Jyn, and she wasn’t leaving without her father.

It was Galen who broke the silence, with a single word. “Goodbye,” he said, his eyes on Jyn’s.

It took them one second to understand, and by then it was too late.

Galen smiled once, sadly. And stepped backwards.

*

They ran.

Despite all the training, and the planning, and being on the same side as the god of war himself, she still ended up running away yet again. Scared, hurting. Powerless.

She turned on Cassian the second they entered the Underworld.

“You liar,” she said, and she had tried to put the full force of her fury into her voice, but it came out sounding small and sad.

That alone made her angry all over again, and her voice was stronger as she added, “Were you planning that the entire time? You must have been. I don’t know why I ever expected better.”

His anger was expected, and gave her a savage thrill. She wanted to fight, to hurt.

“I did not do anything to your father, Jyn,” he said, his temper just barely in check. “You saw what happened.”

“And a hole leading to fucking Tartarus just happened to be in the middle of the floor? How stupid do you think I am? You wanted him to fall.” She paused, swallowed back the lump in her throat. “You’re as bad as they are.”

It was a low blow, and she knew it. Cassian never spoke of his history with Kronos, but everyone knew the story.

“I’m sorry, did you not realize that we’re fighting a war here?” he replied, voice tight with fury. “I have been in this fight since I was a child! Did you think I was in this for the fun?” He paused for a second, and when she didn’t reply, continued, “War means sacrifice. I’m glad your father understood that, at least.”

His eyes were flame, and Jyn could see why he was so feared in the mortal realms, why even the titans hadn’t hurried to track him down. She could see it, but she was well past caring.  

“You know nothing about my father,” she hissed. “Don’t try to pretend this was some noble sacrifice. This was you throwing his life away for the sake of your stupid fight.”

“My stupid fight?” he asked, sounding calmer – and more deadly – than before. “That’s right, I forgot that you’re not one of us. You won’t be affected when the titans move to exterminate the gods. You’ll just go back to doing whatever you were doing, and leave the rest of us to our fates, is that right? But at least your hands will be clean.”

She could feel the anger still inside her, raging, seeking escape. But now there was an emptiness sneaking in, too; a pain that she couldn’t give voice to, even to herself. And suddenly she was too tired to fight anymore.

“Go to hell, Cassian,” she whispered, then turned and fled.

*

He let her run.

The rest of them drifted off, shooting him cautious glances as they left. K remained, loyal as always, but Cassian sent him to guard the river. He found that he desperately wanted to be alone.

He knew why he hadn’t pushed Galen. And it wasn’t because of what Jyn would say.

It was the way she looked at him, as if he wasn’t frightening or evil. As if she trusted him to be on her side. It made him want to be what she saw when she saw him.

Of course, she would probably never look at him like that again. The thought made his head hurt and his chest heavy, and for once he let himself just sit in silence, while the Underworld went on without him.

*

She was still angry. And she was right to be angry, damn it. Even if Cassian was telling the truth, even if he hadn’t planned to hurt her father, he still had no right to put him in danger like that. 

But even as she saw the events of that afternoon play out again in her mind, she saw another set of images as well. Cassian, growing up in a small, dark place, his only companions the younger gods who looked to him for protection. Cassian, finally getting his freedom, stepping out into the light of day, only to take on the work of the Underworld. To accept responsibility for the task so unpleasant that the other gods preferred to ignore it completely, to purge its existence from the halls of Olympus.

Cassian, spending the eons putting everything he had into his kingdom. She could practically see him, head bent over his desk, that serious look he got on his face. Working, while Zeus and Poseidon drank and danced and squabbled.  

Her heart ached, and she knew that not all of it was due to Galen’s fall.


	5. distractions

Jyn cursed silently as she stomped downstairs.

It wasn’t enough that she was heartsick, tired, and still sore all over from the fight that morning. No, she had had to go make things somehow even worse.

She made a mental note: next time, share valuable intel first, _then_ fight. Because having an epic screaming match in front of everyone, and then crawling back a couple hours later to talk strategy? Awkward.

She had almost been tempted to wait until the morning, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t just that she had to talk to Cassian despite what had happened with her father. She had to talk to him _because_ of what had happened to her father. Galen had willingly gone to Tartarus. The least she could do is swallow her anger – and her pride – and focus on what mattered.

She didn’t bother looking for Cassian in his room. She knew where he would be – the same place that he was every evening after dinner. She didn’t bother to knock as she entered the war room.

Which may have been a mistake, she realized, as three heads turned to look at her in surprise. Had she knocked, she would have had advance warning that Ares was around. She felt her fists clench involuntarily, a gesture he probably noticed.

“Lady Athena,” she said, dropping in a clumsy half-curtsey. She registered Ares’ scowl from the corner of her eye.

“I have information,” she told them. She tried to keep her eyes on the goddess, but she couldn’t help noticing Cassian stand straight at her words. “My – Galen managed to tell me something, before he fell.”

“We’re in the middle of a meeting, can’t this wait?” Ares asked, curt.

“No,” Cassian’s voice said. _Don’t look at him, don’t look at him,_ she reminded herself _._ “I’m sure Jyn wouldn’t be telling us if it weren’t important.”

She looked at him. He was wearing his usual jacket, and his hair was sticking out in several directions, as if he’d been pulling at it. He looked tired, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward as she met his eyes. And – this is why she hadn’t wanted to look. Because his stupid sad dark eyes made her heart flip even now, and she wanted to be mad at him, damn it.

“He saved the plans,” she said in a rush, looking at no one in particular. “In case this happened. He left us a map of how to destroy it.”

Cassian’s face lit up with a real smile, and she couldn’t help a small smile of her own.

“And where is this map?” Ares demanded, and her smile faded.

“Hidden,” she said. She tried to keep her voice calm as she added, “On Olympus.”

Athena frowned, and Ares looked furious. “Wonderful. Thank you very much for that valuable intelligence,” he said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

“I don’t like it either, but at least it’s something,” she fired back.

“It’s nothing,” he declared. “We’d have a better chance of finding a weakness through trial and error than of getting in and out of Olympus these days.”

“I’ll go, then, if it’s too dangerous for you.”

The war god looked as if he’d like to push her into Tartarus himself. 

“That’s a brave offer, Jyn,” Athena said. “But if you were to attempt it, you would draw Kronos’ attention to our efforts. We cannot risk it.”

 Jyn’s respect for Athena battled her desire to scream in all of their faces until they listened to reason.

Luckily, Cassian spoke first. “I do not see a choice, here,” he said, and Jyn heard her frustration reflected in his voice. “We must destroy the machine. We cannot destroy the machine without learning its weaknesses.”

Ares looked shocked, and Jyn wondered how often Cassian openly disagreed with him.

Athena drew herself to her full height. “I will bring this before the others,” she said, in a tone that left no room for objection. “We shall see how they vote.”

Jyn drew breath, ready to object, but the sudden feeling of Cassian’s hand on her back startled her into silence. He had come closer without her even noticing. She doubted Athena or Ares noted the gesture.

She could feel the warmth of his hand through her shirt. She knew he was asking her to wait.

She had no reason to trust him. And yet, she found herself closing her mouth, swallowing her words, feigning calm as she left the room.

She was waiting for him when he came out an hour later. If he was surprised to see her, it didn’t show.

She fell in step with him as he walked in silence, apparently content to let her speak first. She scowled. Two could play at that game.

“So what’s the plan?” she found herself saying a minute later, as he made his way out of the castle. She had no idea where he was going now, in the middle of the night, but she didn’t particularly care. What mattered was his reason for asking her not to tell Ares where he could stick his caution; it had better be a good one.

“You heard Athena. She’ll bring the matter to a vote,” he said, voice neutral.

“And?” she asked, impatient. His eyes flicked to her, and she saw the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“And then we go get the plans, whether the others want to come with us or not,” he said, his voice pure determination.

Jyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Everything suddenly looked brighter; the Underworld night sky with its grays and purples, the grass under their feet. 

“Thank you,” she said. She wished she could say more, could put the depth of her gratitude into words.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, and she turned her head sharply, surprised at the pain in his voice.

He met her eyes without breaking his stride. “You have every right to hate me right now,” he said.

She sighed. If hating him had every really been an option – something she had been doubting for a while already – it definitely wasn’t anymore.

She searched her mind for a way to tell him that, but all she could find was half-formed thoughts and feelings she’d rather not get into. She settled for changing the subject. “Where are we going?”

They were well past the palace now, into an area she hadn’t entered before. Trees lined the path, willow and poplar, their branches seeming to caress her gently as they walked past.

“It has been a long day,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “I thought maybe… I sometimes feel calmer, in the woods.”

*

They sat quietly side by side.

Jyn hadn’t laughed in his face when he’d suggested she might want to visit the forest with him, even though it would have been no more than he deserved. She hadn’t yelled at him, either.

Instead she had said nothing, just moved to sit under a nearby poplar tree. He could tell her mind was racing, though, and she seemed to be grasped by some strong emotion. Probably remembering the horrors of the day.

He had lowered himself slowly to the ground and sat beside her. Maybe there was nothing he could do to help, but at least he could be there.

He couldn’t remember feeling this helpless in eons. He searched his mind for something, anything, he could do to give comfort. He was a god, surely he had some power that was relevant here. But – there was a reason he was feared, that he was the one who stayed in the dark. He hadn’t exactly had many opportunities to practice kindness.

Her voice broke through his thoughts. “Thank you.”

He looked at her, astonished. “For what?”

“For bringing me here,” she said. “You’re right, it helps.”

“Is there anything else I can do?” he asked, tentative.

She turned to him, and in the dim light he could see her eyes shining with unshed tears. The sight made his heart twist, made him wonder if maybe anger would have been easier to take.

“Distract me,” she asked. Ordered.

“Um. OK,” he said. “Do you want me to tell a story? Or… I never was much good with music, but-“

He was cut off by her lips on his.

His body responded automatically, pulling her closer to him, bringing a hand to her cheek. Her skin was soft under his skin, and she smelled of flowers and hot summer days, and it was better than anything he had dreamed.

And then his mind caught up, and he pulled back.

She leaned in, her lips following his for a fraction of a second, and he wanted to kiss her again more than anything, wanted to kiss her until he forgot the damn war and everything but the taste of her mouth and the feel of her body pressed against his.

But he couldn’t, not like this.

“Jyn,” he heard himself say. “You do not really… You are not thinking straight.”

Her eyes opened, and she looked at him like… well, like he was an idiot. Right now he was inclined to agree.

He waited for her anger, but then, “You don’t know what I’m thinking,” she whispered, serious, and how did she do that, how did she keep managing to surprise him?

He let out a shaky breath. “I know that just an hour ago, you hated me,” he said, voice low.

“No,” she said. Her hand brushed his, feather-light, her fingers tracing a pattern on his palm. Somehow it felt even more intimate than the kiss. “Cassian, I don’t hate you. I don’t think I ever did.”

Her fingers were moving up his arm now, and he had to speak now, before she destroyed the last of his willpower. “You’re not my prisoner anymore,” he managed. She just hummed lightly, her fingers continuing on their path up his shoulder, burning through the fabric of his shirt. “Jyn,” he said, insistent. “You’re free to go. You don’t – you could go anywhere, you –“

She raised her eyes to his, and her trademark smirk ghosted across her face for a moment. “You think I’m only free to go _now_?” she asked. “Please. I’ve known about the secret exit through the plain of judgment for weeks.”

“Then why –“

“Do you want me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he couldn’t help saying. Yes, he wanted her, far more than he should.

“So stop thinking so much,” she said, her breath against his throat. “This doesn’t have to be – I just want to forget everything for one night.”

He reached out and lifted her chin, searched her face. Her eyes met his, challenging, almost belligerent, but he could see the nervousness underneath. She was making herself clear, giving him a chance to reject her. And he may not have known her for long, but he knew that was something she wouldn’t do lightly.

Oh yes, he would be happy to help her forget.  

His lips crashed into hers and she let out a small sound of surprise, but she caught up quickly, twisting a hand in his hair and pulling him closer.

He had tried not to think about touching her, but apparently his brain had made plans in secret, because he knew just what he would do, how he would give her the release she needed.

Everything flew out of his head as she opened her lips against his. He couldn’t help a groan as she nipped his bottom lip, couldn’t help murmuring her name as his hands found the soft skin of her waist. Her hands made their way under his shirt, over his chest, and he gave up on plans.

They moved to the ground, more falling than leaning, mouths urgent. He tried to take his time, enjoying the feel of her skin against his, finding new ways to make her moan, while she urged him forward, yanking off his shirt, running her fingers over his thighs, stroking him until he thought he would go crazy.

“Cassian,” she moaned, and the sound sent heat through his chest. “Cassian,” she said again, pulling away slightly, and it took all his willpower to force himself not to follow. “I want to see you.”

Her mouth trailed hot kisses down his neck as he tried to push aside the fog of lust in his brain for a minute, tried to understand what she was saying. His shirt had come off a while back and he seemed to have lost his pants and underclothes at some point, too. There wasn’t really anything more to see.

“I want to see you,” she murmured again, insistent, as her nails trailed ribbons of fire across his stomach. This time she made the air… pulse, somehow, making her point clear. Her energy unfurled around them, making the night thick with power, filling the air with the scent of springtime.

He had never been with another god like this, had always been so careful. No mortal could see a god’s true self and live. He wondered… He leaned down to claim her lips again, let his hands wander across her soft skin, and slowly, carefully, let tendrils of his power seep into the air, mingling with hers.

She made an impatient sound at the back of her throat, and it was so _Jyn_ that he almost laughed. She pulled away a second time, just far enough that he could see the hint of her smile. “Always so in control,” she whispered, and again he almost laughed, because – he had many feelings around her, but _in control_ was not one of them.

And then she reached between their bodies and guided him inside her, and it was all he could do to keep breathing. They moved together, and he hadn’t realized anything could feel so good.

Her tongue worked at his ear, and he heard himself groan. “Show me,” she whispered. He felt more tendrils of power escaping as they moved faster, as he lost himself in her.

She moaned as her movements grew faster, more urgent, and his body responded automatically, giving her what she needed. She said his name again as she shuddered beneath him, and he had just enough time for a small voice in his mind to say, _so that’s what she meant_ before he lost his last bit of control, power exploding out of him as he followed her.

 

It wasn’t until they were getting ready to go back that he noticed the change. He was looking for his shirt, and then –

“Jyn,” he asked, carefully. “Was this… Did you… “

She turned and looked. Blinked. So, OK, clearly she hadn’t been expecting this either.

The ground between the trees that had been punctuated with tufts of dry grass was now a sea of flowers. He crouched, running a finger along a blossom near his feet. A violet, he thought, although he wasn’t sure; it had been so long since he’d seen one.

He found his shirt among a patch of daffodils just as Jyn found her voice. “It, um. This happens sometimes,” she said. Her voice was off, and as he stole a look at her Cassian felt sure, despite the dim light, that she was blushing.

He nodded. “It’s nice,” he said, and she shot him a suspicious look, as if he might be teasing her even now. “We don’t really get flowers down here,” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

Her gaze softened, and she made her way to him, tiptoeing through the blossoms with her shoes in hand. She paused, facing him, her eyes measuring, and he felt nervous in a way he hadn’t even when facing Kronos.

“Thanks,” she finally said, and leaned up to brush a light kiss against his lips. Before he could react she was already walking away, her back to him as she made her way toward the castle.

He stood silently for a long moment before following her. Later, as he lay in bed, it was that one last kiss that burned into his memory, that kept sleep away until sometime just before dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a terrible person who has abandoned her poor stories :(. My apologies and please accept this smut as my humble offering.


	6. dreams (2)

Jyn had done plenty of stupid things in her long life. Steal a Pegasus and try to fly all the way around the world (she was only ten at the time. And the asshole horse had left her stuck on a mountain after just an hour; she’d barely even made it out of Greece). Accept Hermes’s challenge to a drinking contest (twice). Pick a fight with a gorgon.

But letting herself sleep with Cassian just once, to get it out of her system – that just might have been the dumbest thing she’d done yet. It had been hard enough to get him out of her mind when all she had were dreams. Now that she knew how his hands felt against her skin, how her name sounded when he moaned it as she touched him… It hadn’t made things easier.

It was the timing, she decided. She’d been vulnerable, and he – he’d been sweet. It had been ages since anyone had just been there, had stayed by her side for the sole reason that she might want them there. Was it her fault she’d reacted as she had?

It didn’t help that he was still being, well, himself. Still making sure she was eating, still breaking up her arguments with Kay before they could become true fights, still giving her a tired smile whenever she walked into the room.

At times she was almost glad for the distraction of the war. The problems they faced demanded all of her attention, kept her from obsessing over his every glance as if she’d been hit by one of Eros’s arrows.

The gods had turned down her proposal to seize the plans, because of course they had. Dionysus would have supported her, but as usual he hadn’t showed up to the meeting, too busy with an absurdly dangerous plan to launch a sneak attack on Koios and Krios as they visited their fortress in Norway.

Artemis would have been on her side, too, and would have brought Apollo if she could. But Apollo hadn’t been seen in ages, and Artemis had recently gone missing. That news had been a heavy blow. Besides being one of their fiercest warriors, the goddess of the hunt was one of the few beings who Jyn actually liked.

That left Ares – who had already made his feelings clear – Aphrodite, Eros, and Hestia. Not exactly a band of warriors. She hadn’t been at all surprised when Athena carried back their decision to wait, not to provoke the Titans.

What had been surprising was the support from every single member of the strange company they’d formed in the Underworld. Baze and Chirrut were in complete agreement – as they tended to be, when it really mattered – they were going to help her, no matter what it took. Bodhi, the gentle one of their group, Bodhi the _mortal_ , told Jyn in the firmest tone she’d ever heard him use that he was with them until the end.

“It’s my world, too,” he’d said, echoing Cassian’s words to her earlier. “And you’re my friends.” She’d just nodded, not trusting herself to speak past the sudden lump in her throat.

 

She’d been all for charging off to Olympus the next day, but Cassian insisted they make a plan, first.

“We don’t have time for this,” she’d grumbled.

“Do you have time to spend an eternity in Tartarus?” he’d asked, voice mild.

She’d rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny that his strategy seemed a lot more sound than hers. Of course, hers had just been “get in there and figure it out as we go,” and his was still pretty likely to get them all chopped to pieces, so – it was all relative.

It was four days after their trip to Kronos’ lair when Cassian looked up from his table full of papers and said, “I think we’re ready.”

She stared back, her mind fuzzy from hours of pouring over blueprints and data files. She envied the others; Bodhi had spent the afternoon making some last improvements to his hoverboard, while Chirrut and Baze were off on a mission to “get some better weapons than these puny bolts of yours,” as Baze had put it. Both of which had to be way better than scanning decades of data, looking for any detail that might help.

“Jyn?” Cassian said, taking in her dazed look. “I think we can leave tonight.”

“Tonight,” she repeated. “Great. That’s – that’s great.”

In a few hours, it would all be over, one way or the other. That was what she had wanted, that was what she had been waiting for. But now that he was saying it – Jyn felt a dull panic spread through her.

What if she didn’t make it? Or worse – what if she did, and she was the only one? She closed her eyes and tried not to picture it, to no avail. Bodhi, lifeless on the marble tiles. Baze and Chirrut, chopped to bits and thrown into the abyss. Cassian –

Her mind recoiled from the thought, stomach queasy.

“Jyn? Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes and saw him right in front of her. Alive. Intact. Breathing. For the first time in days she let her eyes wander over his face, let herself try to burn his dark eyes and the hint of his smile into her memory.

“I’m fine,” she said, with what she hoped was a normal expression.

He didn’t look convinced. “Let’s make it early tomorrow morning,” he said, decisive. “I think we should all try to rest first.”

 

She hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep, but she was out the moment her head hit the pillow. And then came the dreams.

_The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever. All she could see was darkness on every side, all she could hear was the sound of her own footsteps echoing back to her as she raced onward._

_She was alone in the dark. And she was happy. Something wonderful was about to happen._

_By the time the tunnel ended she was dirty and out of breath. The man at the other end didn’t care. His face, his whole body seemed to light up when he saw her._

_“Jyn!” He hugged her so hard her feet left the ground and spun her around, laughing, and she laughed too, happier than she’d been in months._

_Her head was spinning by the time he set her lightly on her feet. “I thought you wouldn’t be here until next week,” he said, still holding her close._

_“We finished things early this year,” she heard her dream-self say._

_And then he was kissing her, or maybe she was kissing him, and it was even better than she remembered._

_She managed to pull away just long enough to say, “I hope you didn’t have plans for today.”_

_“None that I can recall,” he answered, his voice rough, and then he was kissing her again, and she was finally home._

*

It had been a good idea, to get some sleep before their mission.

Of course, it would have helped if he could have had a break from the dreams, just for one night. But - the odds of them making it home were so very low. If he could get one final pleasant memory in, well, he couldn’t bring himself to complain. Even if it was just a dream.

Still, he’d needed an extra cup of coffee that morning. And dealing with K was driving him to contemplate a third.

“Are you sure this was _your_ plan?” he was asking Cassian. “It seems more like something she would come up with.”

“It’s the best we can do, K,” he answered, patient.

“Just five of us against the might of Kronos?” K sounded skeptical. “Odds that we will end up in Tartarus are quite high.” He paused. “Not that I particularly mind, I like Tartarus.”

“I count six,” Baze’s voice said.

“If we’re counting heads, then I should count as three,” K said, peevish.

Cassian sighed. “K…”

“We’re counting personalities, K,” Jyn told him. “Be glad you count once.”

“Jyn…”

“Cassian,” she mimicked, but her tone was friendly.   

Despite everything, despite what they were about to do, he almost smiled. But he quickly grew serious again, thinking of what lay ahead. "I can't promise we're going to come back from this," he warned them. "If anyone wants to leave…"

Six sets of eyes gave him the same unimpressed look.

"Right," he said, his chest suddenly, inexplicably warm. "So. We all know the plan. It might not work. But we will fight." His eyes skimmed over each of them in turn. "We will keep fighting until we win, or until we are gone." Jyn's green eyes held his, her gaze serious.

"And if they stop us, we restart the fight in Tartarus," Baze declared, earning cheers from Jyn and Chirrut.

Cassian took one last look at his team. "Let's go," he said.

 

The plan was simple, really. Chirrut and Baze would provide the distraction. Chirrut had assured them that Baze was an expert at distractions, and watching the speed at which Baze threw bolts during target practice, Cassian had believed him.

Bodhi would provide the escape. If they got Galen’s plans – _when_ they got the plans – they would need to get out fast.

Jyn would be with him. That part of the plan had not been his idea, but there’d been no way to stop it.

“It has to be me,” she’d declared, arms folded across her chest, eyes staring him down. “We need Bodhi manning the board, we need Baze and Chirrut on the perimeter. Who else is going to climb up with you, Kay?”

“I don’t need anyone on the slopes with me,” he’d argued. “Kay will meet me at the top.”

“And if something goes wrong and you can’t get the file? We need more than one of us in there.” He opened his mouth to respond, but, “More than one of us with opposable thumbs,” she’d added.  

He hadn’t said anything. There was nothing to say. She was right. He hated it, but she was right.

She knew he had given in; he could see it on her face as she relaxed her stance. “Don’t worry,” she told him, smirking, “I have plenty of experience in breaking and entering.”

 

They made their way up the slopes of Olympus slowly, their backs to the mountain, feet edging along a narrow pathway. Every few minutes one of them would accidentally kick a rock loose, and send it flying down into the clouds.

Bodhi had brought them most of the way up the mountain, but the last stretch they had to cover alone.

At one point they had almost been spotted. Luckily Jyn saw the harpies first, giving him time to grab her hand and put them both under the cover of invisibility.

And then they were at the top, the marble towers of Olympus rising before them. Cassian didn’t visit the city of the gods often, but even he could tell immediately that it had changed. It was more than just the sight of harpies overhead, or the red banners flying over the walls. The whole place felt… wrong. The air itself seemed to pull at him, sapping his energy. There was a faint scent of blood to it; blood and something worse, something darker than even the Underworld.

Jyn’s fingers clenched his, and he wondered what it was like for her, seeing the city like this. He had visited, occasionally, but she had grown up here. Had spent weeks in Olympus every year, probably, until the Titans came. His grip tightened on hers for a second before he could catch himself.

Her gaze met his, and her eyes were fire. “Come on,” she whispered. “We have an empire to destroy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at responding to comments. But even when I don't respond, I read them and I love them. Just so you all know.


	7. the climb

On the way to Olympus, Jyn had had to force her feet forward. Every step was a fight against the more cautious part of her mind (the saner part, probably), against every instinct she’d developed over the past three years.

Not that she was exactly known for being cautious. But this was past reckless; it was suicidal. It had been a while since she’d been ready to die for a cause.

_Think of Bodhi_ , she’d told herself. _If he can do this, so can you_.

(And, OK, maybe it wasn’t just Bodhi she thought about. Maybe she’d also looked at Cassian, when he was looking away, and had thought of what it would be like, to walk away and leave him to fight alone. 

He wouldn’t judge her, she knew. Which was a big part of why the thought of doing it was unbearable.)

But once they reached the top, it was her aching to run ahead, and Cassian slowing her down. He pulled at her gently, and she knew it meant _careful_. They may have been invisible, but there were other dangers to consider. Some of Kronos’ monsters were very sensitive to movement.

She knew they needed to be careful, but oh, how she wanted to race forward, to bring about the Titans’ destruction as quickly as possible. What they had done to Olympus… The seat of civilization, turned into a tribute to blood and carnage.

A wild energy buzzed through her veins, and she could feel herself switching to battle mode. It was as easy as slipping on an old pair of shoes.

She forced herself to breathe slowly, to focus. She let some of her power seep out, and wrapped it around them, covering their scent.

They walked slowly, keeping to the shadows, taking care not to let their footsteps be heard. At one point a titan walked right past them, hurrying to the throne room, a massive helmet covering his face. They also passed monsters worse than anything Jyn had seen on the battlefield – an enormous, hideous thing with a snake’s body and at least ten heads; something that was barely more than shadow and smelled of rotten meat. The second one made a mechanical clinking sound as it passed that sent a shudder through her entire body, and Cassian’s hand tightened on hers again.

They had almost reached Galen’s workshop when the hellhounds came.

Cassian let out a string of curses in Greek and some other, more ancient tongue. “Did you – “

“Our scent should be covered,” she answered, tersely. Their scent would be covered, but any move they made would be sure to be picked up by half a dozen sets of ears. They were stuck.

There were four of the beasts, each at least as large as Kerberus, and they came so close that she worried they would discover her and Cassian simply by tripping over them.

They seemed to have no plans to leave, either. Every time Jyn thought they were about to walk away, one of them would start up again, yapping in the language of monsters.

Next to her, Cassian was starting to fade. She saw it in the lines of his face, in the tension in his shoulders. If the hounds didn’t leave soon, they would be seen.

Finally, _finally_ , three of the dogs walked off. And the fourth sat down and began licking its paws. Jyn could have cried.

And then it looked straight at them, and, “K,” Cassian said in relief.

K sniffed. “You smell like roses,” he said, disdain dripping from his voice. “Honestly, do you want to be caught?”

Jyn scowled. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He sniffed again. “Only because my brothers are as dumb as a box of rocks. Why would anything here smell like roses?”

Before she could reply, Cassian let out a faint moan from next to her. His face was pale.

“K, we need to hurry,” she said. “He can’t keep this up much longer.”

All three of K’s heads nodded. “Get inside the workshop,” he told them, “and drop the disguise. I’ll cover you.”

“When the door closes, they’ll get suspicious,” Cassian warned.

“It’s my brothers who are idiots, not me,” K said, peevish. “I know they’ll get suspicious. Now get in there.”

Cassian looked as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end he stumbled forward without saying a word.

 

The inside of the workshop was even more spectacular than Jyn had remembered. An array of tables held mechanical devices of all sizes, some complete, some still half a mess of parts. More machines dangled from the ceiling. She almost smiled as she saw the model solar system her father had built her when she was a child; the metal planets still spinning around a shining miniature sun. This was where she’d spent so many happy hours as a girl.

This was where her father had designed the world’s greatest weapon.

Beside her, Cassian cursed. He looked stronger now that he’d dropped the cover of invisibility. He also looked worried. “There are so many,” he said.

She followed his gaze. Every inch of wall space was filled with books and scrolls.

“There must be a system,” she said, although she wasn’t so sure. Galen had always had an amazing memory; he might simply know where everything was.

They moved off in different directions, each frantically scanning shelves and desktops. Outside, K was talking to someone.

“Look where there’s no dust,” Cassian said, and she nodded. The scrolls – or disk, or book, or… whatever it was – would be something he’d used recently.

The voices outside grew louder, and she knew they didn’t have much time.

She cursed her height as she stood on tiptoes, straining to read the titles on a shelf just above her head. Two rows over Cassian was ripping books from shelves and throwing them aside. The voices outside turned to thumps and growls. Her eyes scanned frantically over a series of encyclopedias, ancient Persian scrolls, and a small blue book with a starburst on the spine.

“Cassian!” she shouted. “I think I see it.”

He had to take it down for her. He opened it eagerly, and they both looked at the pictures with a mix of relief and horror. It was the right book. And what _was_ that thing? It was bigger than she could possibly have imagined.

“Where are they even keeping it?” she murmured.

He snapped the book shut. “We’ll worry about that later,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They were almost to the door when they heard one long howl, and then silence.

The look on Cassian’s face was something Jyn hoped never to see again. But his voice was steady as he said, “Out the windows, then.”

He had to give Jyn a boost so she could reach the sill. And then she was climbing out, the air cold against her face. And coming face to face with Kronos.

“I’m getting rather bored of this,” he said, lunging forward to grab her.

Jyn thanked her years with Dionysus as she scrambled up the side of the building, her toes finding fissures in the rock. If she could get to the top, she could slip the book to Bodhi.

She didn’t let herself think what would happen after that.

Below her, she heard Cassian yell. _Get back inside_ , her mind screamed. But no, she heard him sending blasts of power at Kronos, risking himself to give her better odds, because of course he was.

She had to ignore it, she had to climb. It was their only chance.

And yet, she found herself looking down, and adding her own power to Cassian’s, both of them hitting Kronos with everything they had.

Cassian looked up. His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, and his mouth started to open – to yell at her to leave him and go, probably. But she never heard what he would have said. Before he could speak, before either of them could do anything, Kronos picked him up in one giant fist and threw him from Olympus.

 

Jyn climbed. It was pointless, now, Kronos was right behind her. Still, she persevered, arms screaming in pain, choking back a sob.

They weren’t going to get out alive. She’d known that, really. But the thought of Cassian falling, of him dying alone in the dark…

She forced her mind away. There was no Cassian. There was no Jyn. There was only defeating Kronos. There was only the climb.

She was almost at the top of Galen’s laboratory complex. Kronos was still behind her, his bulk a hindrance for once. He would catch her, though. She could only hope Bodhi would get there first.

She screamed the demigod’s name. And screamed it again.

Something sparkled above her. And then Bodhi was there, swooping down through the clouds. She felt hope like a physical presence in her chest. It was a cold hope, not the feeling that had warmed her that morning, as they set off together. But hope nonetheless.

Bodhi had almost reached her when the harpies attacked.

“Hang on!” she heard him yell, as he spun through the air. His sword flashed, and two of the harpies fell down dead. He confused the third with a fast spin of his hoverboard, and cut off its head in a single stroke while it turned, still trying to track his scent. He sped back toward Jyn.

It was too late. In the few seconds it had taken Bodhi to drive the monsters off, Kronos had pulled himself over the rooftop.

*

Everything hurt.

Lucky, then, that he was no stranger to pain.

He gritted his teeth as he forced his arms to pull him forward again. And again. His muscles were fire. He had fallen only partway down the mountain, but that was more than enough. He felt the scrape of bone against bone as he moved upward.

It didn’t matter. It would all be over soon, anyway. He could feel it in his gut, in his own erratic heartbeat. He would be gone soon. He just had to get Jyn, and the plans, and then he could rest.

Most gods feared death. Not that gods could experience true death, but they could suffer other fates; worse fates.

Cassian knew what lurked in Tartarus; knew that an eternity there was the thing of nightmares for a reason. And yet, he’d never feared it, not truly. After all, his entire life would give most gods nightmares. He didn’t fear the dark places under the earth.

He was still unafraid, but – there was something holding him back now, something new. A sadness at the thought that he would be leaving. That he wouldn’t see what happened next. That whatever the others faced in the upcoming weeks, months, years, he wouldn’t be there. To celebrate with them, or mourn with them, or just to sit with Jyn under the dull purple morning sky.

He pushed all that aside, let the thoughts fly out of his mind as if ripped away by the wind. There was no sadness. There was no pain. There was only the climb.

 

He arrived to find the sky a battlezone. Bodhi whirled his way through what must have been a dozen flying monsters, his sword flashing desperately. Baze and Chirrut were nearby, a miniature whirlwind of swords and bullets laying waste to anything that got too close.

And Jyn stood on the rooftop, opposite Kronos, her face a mask of defiance.

He summoned every last drop of power that remained in him, and threw it all at Kronos.

The titan stumbled and fell, and Jyn’s eyes flew to his. Her expression morphed to joyous disbelief, and it might have been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

It was also probably going to be the last thing he’d see for a few millennia. He wasn’t under any delusions; he knew Kronos wasn’t dead, just stunned. Kronos would wake, and tear him limb from limb before sending him to Tartarus.

But Jyn. Jyn would escape. She would find a way to get the plans out. And she would live.

He closed his eyes, and held the afterimage of her face in his mind as he drifted into the void.


	8. goodbye

Consciousness came back slowly, one piece at a time.

At first, it was nothing more than a vague self-awareness. It came and went like waves against the shore, as he drifted somewhere outside space and time.

Then came the memories, flitting by like fish in a fast-moving current. His name. A memory; a younger boy’s hand in his, his own voice saying “don’t be scared.” A three-headed dog. A woman with green eyes, smiling.

Next was sensation. Slowly, slowly, his body came back to him; a finger ached for a brief second, a toe itched, he felt something warm against his cheek.

Finally, the mass of thoughts and sensations came together. He was Cassian, the Lord of Death. Or, well, he had been the Lord of Death. Kronos had killed him.

He wondered how long his recovery had taken – eons, he remembered, it had taken Kronos eons.

He thought of Jyn, then, with a sharp pierce of sadness that surprised him with its intensity. She must have lived ages without him. (She had lived, she had to have lived.) He wondered if she would remember him.

“Cassian?” he heard her voice. “You awake?”

He opened his eyes, and saw his own bedroom. For a moment he could do nothing but stare in shock.

“How am I here?” he finally managed.

Jyn smiled from her perch at the side of his bed. “We brought you here. What, did you think we would leave you there?”

“I – “ He stopped. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he admitted.

“Of course you hadn’t,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Now drink your ambrosia, before K gets back and accuses me of neglecting you.”

He lifted his head, obedient, and managed to down half a glass. “What happened? How long have I been out?” he asked, almost afraid to find out.

“A week.”

He almost laughed, then. Not eons, not even a hundred years. A single week.

“How - ?” He stopped, and looked at her more carefully. Her face was lined with an exhaustion that went beyond a sleepless night or two. The kind of exhausted that suggested she’d been pouring a lot of power into something. Or someone.

He scowled.

“Chirrut and Baze helped, too,” she said, before he could start yelling. “Even Ares did.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he finally managed, but the words came out much softer than he’d planned.

“You’re our friend,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “Get used to it.”

He did not blush. Greater gods didn’t blush.

He might have been smiling like an idiot, though.

But Jyn’s eyes were serious, and anxiety hit him again. “And the plans?” he asked.

Jyn exhaled, looking away. “It’s a long story,” she said.

He leaned back into the pillows. “I have time.”

She paused. “Is it that bad?” he asked.

“You’d better let me tell this one from the beginning,” she said. And he didn’t want to wait, he wanted to hear what was happening _now_ , but he lay back and let Jyn tell him the whole thing.

How they had managed to grab his body and to whisk the plans out from under Kronos’ nose, only to lose the precious book as the other Titans tore up Olympus in their attempts to stop them. How the plans were saved, miraculously, by Artemis – who hadn’t been dead, only deep under cover – who had then been captured by Kronos.

But not before she’d passed the plans over to one of her hunting dogs, who raced down the mountain and had somehow, miraculously, found shelter with Apollo.

“Apollo?” he hadn’t been able to help interrupting. “But he’s – “

“Hidden,” she’d said. “Memories wiped.” At his blank look, she said, “The River Lethe.”

Water from the river Lethe had left Apollo unaware of his own past. For his own protection, said Chiron, the teacher of heroes – who had convinced Apollo he was a farm boy named Luke and sent him off to somewhere called Iowa, where he lived a relatively peaceful life. Peaceful, at least, until the moment Chiron had come barging in his door and told him he was a greek god, and his help was needed to save the universe.

Apollo and Chiron had set off with the plans and a desperate plan to save Artemis. Somehow they’d managed to find Hermes, who had been helpful for once, delivering the plans to Athena and the rest, and then joining a rescue mission to snatch Artemis from inside the Titans’ base. And somehow, against all odds, they had succeeded.

“That’s…” Cassian trailed off, not knowing where to begin.

“I think ‘suspiciously improbable,’ was how K put it,” she said. “Me, I prefer just ‘crazy.’”

“But what about the weapons?” he asked.

Her mouth tightened. “The gods are planning an attack,” she said, reluctant.

He sat up suddenly, and would have crashed into Jyn, if she hadn’t anticipated his movement. “Why didn’t you tell me? We have to help,” he admonished her.

“Cassian…” she sighed.

He frowned. She thought him weak. He would show her. He forced himself to his feet.

And promptly fell back onto the bed, overcome by dizziness.

He closed his eyes, unwilling to accept that this was real. “Cassian,” Jyn’s voice broke in, gentle. “You just came back from the dead.”

His jaw clenched involuntarily, and – even that hurt. “I need to be there,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“You need to _rest_ ,” she insisted. “Apollo’s got this. You know he’s a better shot than any of us, anyway.”

He opened one eye.

“There’s a weakness, but it’s tiny,” she told him. “They’re going to have to get close, and try to shoot it. If Artemis and Apollo can’t do this, nobody can.”

“I’ve been fighting Kronos since I was a child,” he said, hating the hurt in his own voice. “I should be there.”

She said nothing, but took his hand in hers. And it wasn’t what he wanted, not really - he wanted vengeance, not sympathy – but he couldn’t bring himself to complain.

“I can’t believe we have to put our trust in _Hermes_ ,” he said after a moment.

“Believe me, I’m with you there,” she answered. “But, you know. Life goes on.”

He gave her an odd look. “What?”

She thought for a moment, and realized what confused him. “It’s a mortal saying. ‘Life goes on.’ It means, like – don’t take it too seriously, it’s not the end of the world.”

“This is potentially the end of the world,” he pointed out.

“It’s an expression,” she said, exasperated, but her lips twitched upward in half a smile.

They were quiet for a moment, and he tried not to stare at her too openly. It wasn’t easy. It had been hard enough not to look at her when they were training together, or in meetings. Now, when it was just her against the cold, grey walls of his room, she seemed to practically glow.

She was beautiful. And she didn’t belong there. The thought hit him with a cold certainty.

He had always known, really, that it wouldn’t last, the whole… friends thing. The war would end, or they would, and their little group would be no more.

But he’d managed to get by without really thinking about it. Mostly, he’d figured his own chances of survival were so low that there was no point worrying about the future. And after all, it wasn’t like the war had been about to end sometime soon either way.

Except that apparently it had been. Because whether Artemis or Apollo succeeded or not, it would be the end of things.

Well. He’d run the underworld alone for a couple thousand years. He’d get used to it again soon enough.

Jyn glanced over, and something in his expression gave her pause. “You OK?” she asked, hesitant.

He gave her what he hoped was a smile. “I’m fine.”

*

When the end came, it was bizarrely anticlimactic. Jyn hadn’t been in the battle; she hadn’t even been above ground. She had been helping newly arrived spirits find the Hall of Judgment – and there were so _many_ of them, how did Cassian do this alone? – when she felt the earth around them shaking.

And she barely had time to realize that it was here, that the battle was upon them, before suddenly it was over. She thought. All she had to go on was the sudden silence from above.  

For a long few minutes she had no idea who had won.

And then K came bounding in, saying something about Apollo and about metal stars falling from the sky, and she found herself laughing and crying and racing to tell Cassian.

He was still recovering, but he flew out of bed when he heard the news, and managed to stay standing even when Jyn threw herself at him and hugged him.

They stayed like that for a long moment. She was bursting with energy, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave his arms, so she stood still and listened to his heart beating against her cheek.

He was the first to pull away. “You know what this means,” he said, his eyes searching her face.

She nodded. “We’re free.” The sound of her own words made her grin even wider.

“Not just that, Jyn,” he said. “Your parents.”

She stared, hope beginning to blossom in her chest. “What about them?”

“They went down to Tartarus whole, right?” She nodded. “Then with Kronos defeated, we can get them back.”

“That’s… I… “ She gave up on words and hugged him again.

He laughed, then pushed her gently away. “Go,” he said. “Athena can help you free them.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, sitting back on the bed. “K will take care of me.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “Go, Jyn.” She was halfway to the door when he added, “I’ll send your things later.”

She stopped, and turned to stare at him. “What?”

“Your sweater, your gun, whatever else you have here,” he said patiently. “I’ll have K send it to you on Olympus.”

It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d be returning to anywhere other than the Underworld.

“Don’t bother,” she said, after a brief pause. “I can come by later.”

 

But when she finally made it back to her room on Olympus, exhausted and exhilarated after her parents’ rescue, she found a small package waiting for her on the bed. Inside were the few possessions she’d left behind in the Underworld. She wondered, idly, if it had been Cassian or K who had gathered her belongings. The lack of teeth marks on her sweater suggested Cassian; K wouldn’t have been so careful.

There was a lot she still had to do. Take a shower, for one. She hadn’t gone into Tartarus herself, but she still had the smell on her, and it wasn’t pleasant.

But for the next several minutes, all she could do was sit and stare at the small bundle on her bed, her mind a thousand miles away.


	9. party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short chapter, I was just in the mood to get something up already.

Jyn was happy.

Her father was back. Her _mother_ was back. And as if that wasn’t enough, after spending most of the last decade on the run, sleeping rough, now she was back on Olympus. In silk and jewels, a glass of the world’s best wine in her hand.

OK, maybe it wasn’t entirely perfect. Maybe it was a little strange not seeing Cassian every day. Maybe she’d grown used to the way he looked at her, like she was something special. And maybe she’d been hoping that he’d at least want her to stay a little longer, that he wouldn’t just send her packing like an unwanted guest, after all they’d been through.

But there was no point in getting upset over it. So he didn’t feel about her the way she maybe might have felt about him. These things happened. She was alive, she was back with her family.

She was happy.

“You don’t look happy.”

Jyn gave her mother a sideways look. “Of course I’m happy,” she said. She could feel her mother’s scrutiny as she took a sip of wine.

Her mother satisfied herself with a skeptical hum. “Your father seems alright,” she said quietly, sounding cautiously optimistic.

Galen hadn’t wanted to come, convinced that none of the gods would want to see his face. None of Jyn’s pleas had helped. But in the end, her mother’s sad eyes had convinced Galen, as they always did.

“He looks happy enough,” she said, watching her father as he spoke to Chirrut, both men gesticulating wildly. Opposite them, Baze was speaking to Apollo and to Bodhi, who looked more than a little star-struck at finding himself so close to the sun god.

“Like you.”

… that was going to get old at some point.

Demeter sighed. “Go talk to Artemis,” she said, shooing Jyn off. “Have fun.” Jyn opened her mouth to object, but, “Go.” Her mother said firmly. “We’ll talk later.” Her gaze softened. “There’s plenty of time.”

 

Jyn found Artemis busy dealing with Hermes, who was already halfway to drunk. She smirked as the god of thieves snuck his hand over Artemis’ shoulder, only to find himself pinned against the wall.

“Easy, princess,” he said. “Don’t ruin the shirt.”

She sniffed in disdain, but let him go. “I’d be doing you a favor if I ruined that shirt,” she said. Jyn thought she had a point. The purple button-down was garish.

“Thinking of ways to get my clothes off?” he asked, shooting her a wolfish smile, and Jyn decided to intervene before he lost a limb.

“I hear you and your brother saved us,” she told Artemis, and the other goddess looked at her, her anger at Hermes temporarily forgotten.

“We were all part of the effort,” she said. “If you and Cassian hadn’t come through with the plans, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Some of us were a bigger part of the effort than others,” Hermes said. “Like me. I’m a war hero now, you know.”

“As we’ve heard,” Artemis said, coldly. Turning back to Jyn, she added, “How is Cassian? He’s not here.”

“He’s fine. Just… busy, I guess,” Jyn said.

Artemis hummed approvingly. “He is quite dedicated. He takes his responsibilities so seriously.” She shot Hermes a look.

It would be much easier to stop thinking about Cassian, Jyn thought, if everyone would just stop talking about him.

Hermes snorted. “Doesn’t know how to have fun, you mean.”

“As opposed to you, I suppose,” Artemis said, looking bored.

“Oh, I can be very fun,” he said, his tone leaving no doubt as to his meaning. “What do you say, princess?” he asked with a wink. “Care to take this celebration somewhere a little more… private?”

“Of course,” she purred, and his eyes opened in shock. “Oh wait, you mean with _you_? No.”

He looked almost hurt for a second, but recovered quickly. “So – you prefer we stay right here where anyone could see? Kinky. I like it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a maiden goddess, Hermes. _Maiden._ Now come on,” she said, turning to Jyn, “let’s get some wine before Zeus finishes it off.”

Jyn pasted a smile on her face, and joined her.

 

The party seemed to go on forever.

Jyn had talked to Artemis for a while, joined Hermes in pushing a stuttering Bodhi over to talk to Luke, and turned down Hermes’ suggestion of a drinking contest (just the memory of the hangover she’d had last time was enough to give her a headache). And then had somehow found herself trapped in a deathly boring conversation with Hera about home decorating, which she had just managed to escape.

She looked around, hoping to find a quiet corner where she could just sit for a moment. Or at the least, someone she could talk to without wanting to punch them.

Hermes seemed to have given up on Artemis, and was now sitting next to Apollo. Luke. That would take some getting used to.

Both were extremely drunk.

Jyn thought she overheard Luke saying, "…that was before I knew she was my sister, of course. But still. Ugh."

"Don't worry about it, kid," Hermes said. "That's perfectly normal here."

She quickly walked off toward the wine fountain, less focused on her destination than on getting away from that conversation as soon as possible.

"Jyn!"

…of course, heading toward the wine had meant heading toward Poseidon.

Not that she disliked the sea god. It was hard to dislike Po, with his easy smiles and relaxed nature. He was the perfect counterbalance for Zeus, who had always tended toward the dramatic.

Neither were anything like their third brother, she couldn't help thinking. And then she was thinking of dark eyes and surprisingly soft lips and _stop it, Jyn_ , she rebuked herself.

"Jyn," the sea god slurred again, swinging a hand in what may have been meant as a friendly greeting, but nearly knocked her off her feet. 

"Ooopsh," he said. "Sorry."

"S'okay." She smirked. "Enjoying the party?"

He looked around. "No Titans, good wine, everyone's here – what's not to like?"

"Almost everyone," she said, automatically, then winced.

He stared at her in confusion. "Who… who's not here? We didn't forget to invite one of the vanities, did we?"

"No!" she assured him. "No, I just – I was thinking of your brother."

"Zeus is right over… Oh. Right. Nah, Cassian doesn't count, he never comes to these things," he said with what she thought was probably meant to be a shrug. "Says he's too busy… Good thing about the vanities, though," he added, "You do not want to piss those guys off."

She gave a noncommittal hum, relieved at the change of topic.

"You and he were in the thick of things, right?" he said, and she cursed internally. He chuckled. "That must have been strange. He's so serious all the time, I'm amazed you two survived each other."

"He's not serious _all_ the time," and OK, who was controlling her mouth right now? Because it clearly wasn't her. And now Po was looking at her far more carefully than anyone that drunk should be able to. “We managed. How’s your kingdom, are you done with repairs?”

He waved his hands again, and she was pretty sure he was trying to indicate impatience this time. “It’s water, Jyn. You don’t need to repair water,” he said. “I did have to make a few more giant squid, we were almost out, but – “ he looked at her through one bloodshot eye. “You and Cassian, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, coldly. She was not blushing. She wasn’t.

“No no, it’s good,” he told her. “Cassian’s… he’s… “ His eyes lost their focus for a moment. “He’s like a giant squid.”

Jyn sighed. “Po, I think it’s time for you to switch to drinking water.”

“Water’s for living in, not drinking,” he dismissed her. “What was I saying? Oh right. Cassian. It’s like… everything thinks he’s just scary and mean all the time, but really… is that baklava? Oh man, I haven’t had your mother’s baklava in forever.”

“But really… ?” she prompted, hating herself a little. At Po’s blank look, she said, “He’s not really scary?”

“Oh no, he’s fucking terrifying,” he said. “I still remember how he went off on Zeus after that whole business with Alcmene. I thought he was going to kill him.”

He stopped, a look of fond reminiscence in his eyes.

“But,” he continued a moment later, “he’s not _bad_. Bit annoying sometimes, with all the ‘we’re gods, we have responsibilities,’ and whatnot. But he cares, you know?” He went silent, and seemed not to hear her soft, “I know.”

“He basically raised us, you know,” he added. “Not Zeus, but the rest of us. Took care of us when we were… there.”

She nodded.

Po sighed. “But, like the mighty squid, our big brother spends most of his time hiding from the world,” he said. “Doesn’t come to our parties. Doesn’t invite us to visit.”

“Would you go?” she couldn’t help asking.

He gave her that look again, the one that suggested he saw through her despite being too drunk to stand. “No,” he said, sighing. “Probably not.” He grabbed a glass of wine off a passing nymph’s tray and took a deep drink.

“It’s not so bad there. Kind of beautiful, really,” she said, remembering green trees and pale purple skies.

He gave her another long look. “What I’m trying to figure out,” he finally said, “is what you’re doing here.”

“At this party? I was invited,” she answered lightly. “Guest of honor, even.”

He tipped an imaginary hat. “And deservedly so. No, what I meant was – you and Cassian got along, right?” He took her silence for the ‘yes’ that it was. “And you don’t mind the underworld.” She nodded. Po shrugged. “I’m surprised he let you go.”

She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but it hurt nonetheless. “We fought together for a few weeks. That doesn’t mean that we’re… that he…”

Po sighed again, and let his head fall back. “I suppose,” he said, to nobody in particular, “that this is why there are so few giant squid.”

“What?”

“The point,” he told her, “is that my brother’s an idiot. Try to go easy on him when he inevitably begs you to come back, OK?”

She scowled. “I told you, we’re not – “

“Not yet,” he said.

“Po…”

Po’s expression softened, his customary grin slipping back onto his face. “Aww, ignore me, Jyn, you know I like to tease,” he said.

Before she could protest, he had swept her up in a hug. His arms were folded tight around her waist, his hands skimming the bare skin at her back.

He was a son of Rhea, like Cassian. And where his skin touched hers, she felt nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case not all of the god-character connections are clear:  
> Hephaestus - Galen  
> Demeter - Lyra  
> Persephone - Jyn  
> Hades - Cassian  
> Poseidon - Po  
> Dionysus - Saw  
> Hermes - Han  
> Artemis - Leia  
> Apollo - Luke  
> Chiron - Obi-wan Kenobi  
> Janus - Baze, Chirrut  
> Kerberus - K2SO  
> Kronos - Krennic  
> Ares - Draven  
> Athena - Mon Mothma
> 
> ... I think that's all of them.


	10. the beginning

Cassian had to admit, it had been hard for him when Jyn left. But things had gone back to normal surprisingly quickly.

Well. Maybe he wasn’t completely back to normal just yet. He was still limping a little. And the castle felt cold and dark and quiet in a way it never had before. And he kept turning to say something to Jyn, only to realize she wasn’t there. And he missed her every second of every day.

But other than that, things were fine.

He sighed as he made his way down the corridors in the dim light, and thought, not for the first time, that maybe he should have asked her to stay. But no. Even if by some miracle she’d agreed, Jyn didn’t belong in this cold, dead place. She belonged above ground, with sunlight in her hair.

What was it she had said? Life would go on. That thought had never seemed as depressing before as it did now. For a moment he could almost picture his life stretching out into infinity. An endless eternity, alone. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

He forced his legs to carry him forward, into the throne room. The room would be empty, now, hours before his court began for the day. But if he was awake, he was working. That was how it always had been. That was how it always would be.

He made it several steps past the doorway before he realized what his eyes were seeing, and drew to a sudden halt.

A woman was perched on the arm of his throne. And he’d never seen her in anything but work clothes and combat boots, let alone in a delicate silk dress, but he recognized her in half a heartbeat anyway.

“Jyn,” he managed to breathe.

 “Did you think you were rid of me?” she asked, her tone light.

He took a step forward, still trying to process this new reality. “I – how are you here?” he managed to ask.

She gave a wry smile. “It was harder than you might think,” she told him. “I thought it was K’s job to keep people _in_ the Underworld, but he seemed rather determined to keep me out. Something about me ‘ruining everything’?”

He moved closer still. He could almost touch her now, if he reached out. He didn’t.

“ _Why_ are you here?” he asked instead. “Not,” he added hastily, noting her expression, “that I’m not happy to see you. But – shouldn’t you be celebrating on Olympus, with your family? I thought Zeus declared a month of festivities.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, what better way to spend a month than watching Zeus and Poseidon trying to out-drink each other.” She paused. “Don’t tell them I said that, of course.”

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile. “I won’t tell,” he said softly. She looked at him, then, and he almost forgot what he wanted to say next. By the Styx, he’d missed her so much. Maybe he’d pay for this moment of happiness later, when she walked away again, but it would be worth it.

“Your family, though,” he managed. “I thought you’d be with them.”

“Do you not want to see me?” she asked, and he almost laughed at the absurdity of the question, but then he saw how serious her eyes were.

“You are always welcome in the Underworld,” he told her, and meant it more than he’d meant anything in his very long life.

She snorted. “I can’t help but notice that’s not quite a ‘yes, Jyn, I want to see you,’” she said. He was silent, because – did she really not know?

Before he could even begin to think of an appropriate response, she kept speaking. “I just,” she said, “I know you didn’t want me to stay here, but I thought we were still friends.” Her voice was quieter and more uncertain than he had ever heard it, and it twisted at his heart, even as his head whirled at the thought of just how very wrong she was.

“Jyn,” he heard himself say. “What could possibly have made you think that I didn’t want you to stay?”

She looked at him, incredulous. “I – you told me to leave, Cassian. You practically pushed me out the door.”

“Then allow me to make myself perfectly clear.” He took a step toward her, until their legs were almost touching, and she had to lean back to look him in the face. “I would love nothing more than for you to stay.”

He had meant to stop there; he’d already said too much. But her eyes were on his, and her face was shining with something that looked like happiness, and he found himself continuing. “Knowing you is the best thing that has happened to me, and if you stay a million years it won’t be enough.”

Her sharp intake of breath was loud in the still room.

There was silence for a moment. And then she stood, and walked away. He’d told her how he felt and then she’d walked away, and he thought he had suffered before, but this. This was worse.

And then he heard footsteps coming back.

She waited until he looked up to speak. “Six ought to do it, right?” she asked, and before he could wrap his mind around whatever the hell just happened, he saw a handful of deep purple pomegranate seeds make their way through her lips.

*

She barely had time to swallow before his mouth was on hers, desperate.

The kiss was hard, demanding. She wound her hands through his hair, pressed into him until there was no space between them, until his hands stopped trembling and his kisses grew more gentle. Her head spun and she noticed, vaguely, that her memories hadn’t come close to doing this justice.

Somehow she found herself back against the wall of the throne room, her lips still on his. The room around them faded to gray as they moved together. She worked her hands under the fabric of his shirt and was rewarded by a low moan that sent a flash of heat all the way to her toes.

“Jyn… we… “ he muttered against her lips, and the sound of his voice, low and rough and _wrecked_ , sent another wave of want through her.

“We should… bedroom,” she agreed, even as she worked her mouth down his neck, enjoying the way his hands tightened on her hips in response.

The world jerked. For half a second everything went black, and Jyn was so startled she almost broke away from Cassian. She lifted her head for just long enough to notice they were in a much smaller room, with a large but simple bed against one wall.

“Showoff,” she muttered, and then they were kissing again. Her body thrummed with energy as her world narrowed to the feel of his lips, the taste of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble on her cheek. She only vaguely noticed as her dress fell to the floor. But when Cassian’s hands came to her bare skin, oh, did she notice that. His hands were rough, work-hardened, and perfect as they trailed across her back and up her body. A second later her bra came off, too, and then his hands were on her breasts, fingers teasing at her nipples, and her knees went weak.

Her hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. After weeks of trying and failing not to think about this, she wanted him _now_.

He seemed to have other ideas, though. “Cassian,” she said, half-protest, half-moan, as he pushed her gently back before she could start on his pants.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he murmured in her ear. “I’m going to take my time.”

Her whine of protest turned to a gasp as he began to kiss his way down her body, the brush of his face lighting up every nerve in her skin.

She came the first time with her back against the wall of his room, and his tongue inside her.

The second time, she was in his bed, drowning in his touch and his voice and his scent, drowning and wanting more.

After that, she lost track.

 

“Flowers,” Cassian said.

He might have said more words before that, Jyn wasn’t sure. She had been otherwise occupied, with enjoying the aftermath of the best sex she’d had in her life.

She managed to lift her head from the mattress (the mattress with no pillows, how did someone live that many centuries and not have even one pillow? That was going to change) to see what he meant.

“Oh,” she said, feeling herself blush. “It’s –“ She let her head drop back again.

He looked at her, and if he had looked irritated then, or curious, she might not have continued. But the look in his eyes reminded her of how humans looked, when they prayed, and she found herself able to continue.

“I lied earlier,” she said. “This?” she said with a nod toward his walls. “Doesn’t usually happen. Has never happened before I met you, honestly. I, um. I didn’t even realize it could.”

His eyes followed hers, taking in the vines snaking across his walls, laden with dark purple flowers.

“They’re beautiful,” he said. He turned back to her. “But that’s not what I was talking about.”

She looked at him, questioning.

“You,” he said. “You smell like flowers. When…”

She gave him a mischievous smile. “Perks of the job, I guess,” she offered.

He looked troubled.

“Does it bother you?” she asked.

“What? No, of course not,” he said, quickly. “Just… What do I smell like?”

“What do you smell like?”

He looked at the ceiling as he spoke. If she didn’t know better she would have said he was blushing. “It’s not – I just… If I smell like corpses or something, you can just tell me, you know. I don’t have to let my power out.”

“What? Why would you –“ Jyn stopped. Started over, one hand brushing across his hand as she spoke, “You smell amazing, Cassian.”

His eyes found hers, startled. “It’s true,” she said. “You smell like fresh earth, and rain, and…” She searched for words, and found none. “Good things.”

At least now he looked amused, not worried. “So you’re saying I smell like dirt, but you don’t mind.”

She made a face at him. “Like earth. And not only earth. It’s hard to explain. Like endings, and beginnings.”

 “I didn’t know beginnings had a smell.”

“Shut up!” He laughed at her and she punched his arm. She couldn’t really be annoyed, though; not when his face was transformed by laughter into something so beautiful.

“I’m stuck with this now,” she mock-complained, throwing herself back on the bed.

Cassian nodded. “You ate the pomegranate,” he said.

“I ate the pomegranate,” she agreed.

“You’re so dramatic,” he told her. “You know you could have just stayed. Without all that.” His tone was exasperated, but his expression as he looked at her was impossibly fond.

She propped herself up on one arm to look at him. “Are you honestly going to tell me you would have believed that I was really staying?” she said. He raised an eyebrow, questioning. “That you wouldn’t have been convinced that I was about to change my mind and go somewhere…” she thought for a moment, “sunnier?”

“I would have believed you,” he said, but she could tell even he knew it wasn’t true.

She snorted. “Eventually.” She smirked, and quickly lifted herself up, straddling his waist before he realized what she was doing. “I wasn’t in the mood to spend the next few decades dealing with your doubts.”

His answering scowl quickly dissolved into a low moan as she began to rock her hips.

“You can still leave, you know,” he managed to say. His fingers dug into her hips. “Not-“ another moan, “you’ll have to come back here, but you can still go aboveground part of the year.”

She murmured in assent, still swaying above him. It was getting hard to keep her breath steady. “I thought so,” she said, and before he could misunderstand, “I was planning to go up and help with springtime.”

He gasped as she moved again. “That’s… good.”

She smiled and leaned forward, dragging her fingernails lightly up his chest. “Mmm,” she said. “I know how you feel about duty.”

She smiled again, wicked, and waited to see who would move first.  

Cassian broke seconds later, dragging her mouth to his with a low curse. She had known he would.

*

“You’ve ruined it.”

Jyn didn’t bother to lift her eyes from her work. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

K’s three heads all snorted. “The plain of judgement. You’ve destroyed it. But surely you knew that.” His middle head gave her a suspicious look. “Wait, were you really not sure what I meant? Have you been destroying other parts of the kingdom as well?”

“I would hardly say I destroyed it,” she replied.

“The Plain of Judgement is meant to be a desolate landscape that fills the dead with foreboding and despair,” he told her, severe. “It is not meant to be a _flower garden_.” He paused. “Lord Cassian will not be happy to hear about this.”

“I’m not so sure Cassian will mind,” she shot back. “He helped me with the flowers, actually.”

“I find it hard to believe –“ K began, but their argument over what Cassian would have wanted was interrupted by Cassian himself entering the room.

He looked tense, but his smile when he saw her was genuine. “Please tell me there will be wine at this thing,” he said, brushing a quick kiss against her forehead.

“I’ve got you covered,” she told him.

“Jyn and I were just discussing the Plain of Judgement,” K said, sounding irritated.

“Yes, it looks good, doesn’t it?” Cassian said, proud. “Jyn, really, it’s amazing.”

She beamed. “ _Thank_ you,” she said, glaring at K.

“I’m sure your mother will like it,” he continued. “I hope she’ll like it.” He slumped into a chair. “Who am I kidding, she’s going to hate everything about this place. And me.”

She wiped her hands clean and went to him, settling herself into his lap without asking. “It’ll be fine,” she said, in the tone of someone who had said the same thing fifty times before.

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered. “It’s not like you have to impress my parents; they want me dead anyway.”

“My mother will like you just fine.”

“Your mother will think I’m a monster who kidnapped her baby girl,” he countered. He sighed, “How did she find out how we met, anyway?”

K made a small, undignified sound. “It wasn’t on purpose!” he said, when Cassian turned to look at him. “Well, alright, it was, but how was I supposed to know that wasn’t a standard mating ritual?”

Cassian slumped back again, while Jyn tried to stifle her laughter against his shoulder. When she sat up, he was still staring morosely up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” she said, voice gentle. “It really will be fine. You know how I know?”

He lifted his head to look at her, eyebrows raised.

“Because I don’t care what they think,” she told him, running her hands up his chest. “I love you. I’m staying right here. No matter what happens, today or any day.”

The look in Cassian’s eyes shifted from worry to a kind of awe. K managed to turn his heads in time, but he could still hear them kissing as he left the room.

Jyn had changed everything about this place, he thought as he loped out of the palace.

And as much as he loved to complain, he wouldn’t change things back for all the world.


End file.
